


Route 40

by Ias



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Dating, Drinking, Driving, Isolation, M/M, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2050680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ias/pseuds/Ias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's easy for Carlos to forget the life he left behind. Sometimes not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Route 40

“Will you please tell me where we’re going?” Cecil asks for what has to be the fifth time. 

Carlos just shakes his head, his hands resting on the wheel of his car as the lights of the town slide across the windshield. “It’s a surprise.” 

“Not like the surprise vaccination against Illness that the Sherriff’s Secret Police host once a year?” 

“No, not at all. A good surprise. I hope.”

Cecil beams at him. “Oh, I never doubted that. Couldn’t you at least give me a hint?” 

“Nope.” 

Out of the corner of his eye Carlos can see Cecil squirming in his chair, his hands fidgeting with each other as he glances from the scenery outside to Carlos’s face. Nervous excitement radiates off him like heat, to the point where Carlos finds his own heart beating a little faster. Which was silly, because he already knew what the surprise was, and furthermore he knew it wasn’t nearly as awe-inspiring as Cecil was undoubtedly imagining it to be.

He’d made the mistake of telling Cecil to clear his Saturday night schedule without telling him why, and by the time he considered spilling the beans the hype had already built up too much for him to puncture it. His stomach flops at the thought of Cecil’s face falling when they finally get there. But now there's nothing to be done for it except get there in the first place.

Before long the lights of town are thinning out, until outside of the window there’s nothing but tracts of darkness that simultaneously seem to stretch out forever and press up against the car. Soon the glimmer in the rear view mirror is swallowed up by the desert, leaving Cecil and Carlos alone. 

“Not far now,” Carlos says, desperate to fill up the silence with something other than Cecil’s nervous vibrations. If anything, that makes it worse. 

When the road finally thins out into little more than a packed dirt trail, Carlos stops. Cecil looks at him quizzically—he hasn’t even pulled off to the side—but Carlos just turns the key and kills the engine before stepping out. 

“Carlos?” Cecil asks, following him around the back to the trunk. “If you’re trying to get to the Six Flags, you’re going to need to drive for at least another half hour and perform some ritual chanting.” 

“No,” Carlos says, popping the trunk and reaching inside to pull out a six pack of beer. “We’re here.”

Cecil stares at him with a polite yet puzzled frown. “Is this some sort of tradition for people on the outside? Is that beer poisoned? Do we have to see who retains consciousness for the longest before surrendering to the void?” 

“Just normal beer. Well, normal Night Vale beer. So maybe. But that wasn’t my idea.” Carlos sighs, raking a hand through his hair unconsciously. “I’m sorry. This is going to sound so stupid.” 

Cecil steps forward, his eyes bright. “I doubt it.” 

After a moment, Carlos sets the beer on the trunk and leans against it. “I went to school at Eastern Arizona College,” Carlos begins. “It’s right out in the middle of the desert, meaning there’s not much to do there for fun. Me and some of the lab techs used to drive out into the desert for an hour and then just stop, right in the middle of the road, drinking cans of beer and throwing them into the street for hours until we saw headlights coming our way. We'd pull off the road and sleep in the car until we were sober, and because I was an uptight do-gooder, we’d go pick up the cans and put them in bags so we could recycle them when we got back. But it was the brief moment of recklessness that kept us coming back.” With that, he gestures vaguely at the beer beside him. “And, well. I thought.”

Cecil’s face lights up. “You're sharing your old traditions with me? This is—wow! This is so special.” 

Carlos grins, then smothers it into a sheepish smile that at least leaves something to the imagination of how relieved he is that Cecil is happy. “Great. In that case,” he says, gesturing to the hood of the car with a theatrical little bow. “After you.” 

In a second Cecil hops on up the hood so quickly it’s a miracle he didn’t dent the metal, cringing as an afterthought. Carlos flops down next to him and plucks a beer from the bushel, offering it with a smile. The first sip tastes slightly tangier than most beer Carlos is used to, but he doesn't go into some sort of vision trance so he figures it must be okay. 

“Littering used to carry the penalty of having your hands chopped off and cast into the pit behind the autobody shop,” Cecil says cheerily, “But ever since the Glow Cloud’s rain of dead animal carcasses, they’ve had to do some creative re-writing and burning of our old legislation. Now there’s just a fine.” 

Carlos hadn’t considered that. “Oh. Good.” He takes another drink to spare himself from having to speak, his heart beating faster already. This is always the part during any date (or any form of interaction, for that matter) that he dreads. Conversation has never been his strong suite whenever it revolves around most anything other than science. 

But rather than squirming in the grip of an awkward silence, Cecil seems perfectly content to quietly sit and drink his beer. After a minute, Carlos relaxes. What the hell, maybe Night Vale has different standards for what constitutes social awkwardness anyways. 

"Things here in Night Vale must be very different from what you're used to," Cecil says after a moment. 

Grateful to be spared the task of fumbling for a topic of conversation, Carlos nods. "It was hard at first, but you get used to it. Adapt or die, the law of nature. A lot more literal here than where I come from, but it looks like I've adapted."

Cecil is quiet again for a moment. Carlos watches him out of the corner of his eye, his rounded shoulders slumped, the arc of his back pulling the back of his shirt tight across his spine. The look on his face is distant, almost worried. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howls. It's a lonely sound. 

"Is there anything else about out there that you miss?" Cecil asks eventually.

Carlos hums thoughtfully in the back of his throat. "Yes, of course. I miss my parents, and my dog—my friends from school, who knows what they're doing—Target, legal toast, going to the library without fear of bodily harm…" he trails off with a rueful smile. "A lot."

When he looks over at Cecil again, he's shocked to see the tension in the other man's shoulders. He's staring straight ahead of him with his hands clenched on the car of beer he's holding, his head angled down so Carlos can't see his face. "Cecil, are you alright?"

"What? Yes, sorry, I'm fine," he says unconvincingly. Carlos's heart sinks. He's gone and done it again, slipped up and upset Cecil without even realizing he was doing it. Every time he thought he understood this strange man or the town he lived in, he was almost guaranteed to slip.

"Hey, Cecil, I'm sorry," he says, giving Cecil's arm a gentle squeeze. "What did I say?"

"No, it's nothing," Cecil says quickly, drawing himself up and offering an unconvincing smile. "It's just—well, when the stars are in certain alignments the librarians can be docile enough to let you check out a book, and I'm sure we could muster up some illegal bread somewhere, I know a guy, but…"

Carlos can't help but laugh. "I don't need those things, not really. I hardly even think about them."

"But your family, your friends, your dog; you think about them, don't you?"

"Well, yes," Carlos admits. "I think about them a lot." 

Cecil sighs, his eyes wandering distractedly around the desert, the stars, the darkness. "There's just so many things missing from your life here," he says quietly. "I'm sorry to be dwelling on this right now. I've probably ruined your date."

Almost feverishly, Carlos reaches out and grabs Cecil's hand in a tight grip. When their eyes meet, Carlos' are intent on nothing else. "Cecil, as long as I'm here with you, nothing is ruined." He can only hope the melodrama of that statement is undercut by the fact that he really means it.

Cecil looks down at their hands, his thumb gently rubbing Carlos' knuckles in little comforting circles. Carlos could never get tired of looking at that face, trying to figure out what was going on behind it. When Cecil speaks again, he doesn't look up.

"I just hate the thought of you leaving."

Carlos doesn't say anything at first, even as understanding dawns and his heart gives a feeble little twitch. Instead he just focuses on the point of contact between them, gently squeezing Cecil's hand with a small smile.

"You know, when I was a kid we used to live in this tiny little house in Grand Junction, barely even enough room for me and my parents, but I loved it. We had a tire swing in the back, lots of wildlife, and our neighbor had a dirt bike he let me borrow every so often…" Carlos shakes his head. "For a kid, it was paradise. But when I was seven, my dad got a new job and we had to move away. I was furious." He nearly laughs at the memory, dozens of tantrums and parental lectures flashing in front of his eyes. 

"I felt like I was leaving a hundred pieces of myself behind," he continues. "But after we moved, it was at my new school that I met the professor who made me fall in love with science for the first time. And it was that love that carried me on to college, grad school…and eventually, to here." He touches Cecil's cheek with the tips of his fingers ever so delicately, drawing the man's eyes back to his own. "I still miss that little house, and the swing and the bike and the bugs. And being here, I miss my family as well. But Night Vale is the most amazing place I've ever been to, with the most amazing people I've ever met." He leans forward to press a kiss to Cecil's temple. "There's no other like it. And I'm not going anywhere." 

Cecil stares into his face like he's reading a book, looking for the truth there. He seems to find it, because the crease of worry on his brow softens, and he cups Carlos's cheek and leans in to touch their lips together, as soft yet inseparable as their fingers twined together. Carlos closes his eyes, and it's like he's standing out in the middle of the darkness that surrounds them now, but he can feel Cecil here with him and he's not afraid. With the heat of the car engine seeping through his pants and the cool night air on his skin, Carlos can't remember ever feeling any happier. 

Eventually the two pull apart with a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. The feeling of being so open is still so strange, yet Carlos finds himself welcoming the vulnerability, the way he can shyly bear his feelings to this person who saw him the way no one else ever seemed to. He retrieves his can of beer from the hood of the car beside them, and Cecil follows suit.

A sly grin spreads across Carlos' face before he takes a drink. "Of course, I wouldn't turn down a slice of illegal toast once in a while either." 

Cecil laughs. "A scientist, a poet, and now a rebel. How did I get so lucky?" 

"I ask myself the same question every day," Carlos says. With a look that says more than words ever could, Cecil taps his beer can to Carlos' in an informal toast, and they both down the rest of the contents. The first of the cans are tossed out into the road, tumbling across the asphalt with a metallic clatter that could have been laughter. 

"Tell me about your family," Cecil says as they start their next drink, and Carlos does. He tells Cecil about his mother's favorite books, his father's ugliest ties, the way his dog used to love to eat orange rinds. In exchange he hears about Cecil's childhood, although certain parts seem to pass straight through his mind without leaving a print on his memory, and spiral away on the desert winds like lost slips of paper. He doesn't bother asking Cecil to repeat himself. Night Vale will always have its secrets. But no headlights ever appear to drive them away, and by the end of the night Carlos feels like his parents and his dog have been with them for a while. He still misses them. But maybe a little less. 

A week later, a puppy materializes out of the thin air in Carlos' lab. When Cecils suggests they adopt it, all Carlos can do is laugh. Maybe there are some things Night Vale doesn't have to offer. But family isn't one of them.


End file.
